


Fugue

by orphan_account



Category: Are You Alice?
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-02-28 02:06:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2714984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Wonderland there are games within games and places within places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fugue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sekalaista](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sekalaista/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide to my recipient and any other readers. I really hope you enjoy this.
> 
> Set between the Alice fixed Holiday and the White Knight's first appearance.

The day promised to be bad from the very beginning. Partly because it was the third Friday of the month and there was no hot water, just the tinny strands of Rolling in the Dew coming out of the tap when Alice turned on the valve in a fit of groundless optimism. Partly because more than one voice filtered through the closed door of the parlor and early visitors rarely spelled anything good.

Alice dressed diligently, taking care to fish out two identical socks out of the writhing, tangled mass of underthings contained in his top dresser drawer. It was a shame he couldn't store his clothes more neatly, but everything left into the much larger second drawer disappeared without a trace once it was closed. A tasteless joke by the Hatter, perhaps, who'd adamantly refused to replace the offending piece of furniture.

The most important part of his outfit Alice put on last, in front of the mirror. Slipped the tie over his neck like a noose, looped the band over itself, tightened the knot. It was perfect. Alice took a moment to admire it, the ephemeral accomplishment of it, the way it graced his throat like jewelry. Then he pulled it loose with a single jerky movement, like a half-hanged man pardoned at the last moment, clawing for air. His fingers fluttered around the ruined knot. By the time he thumbed open the topmost button of his shirt, they were steady again.

There was a brief moment of doubt that his bared neck made him appear vulnerable, weak, but no, he could never be weak, he was rakish and charming, he was casual and careless, he was Alice and he looked the part. He tilted his head at the perfect arrogant angle and his reflection copied him dutifully. Alice winked at it, and took off.

♛ ♛ ♛

The intruder in the parlor sat in Alice's usual place at the dining table, a straight back topped by glossy pale hair with a steaming cup of tea at one elbow. Jack. A giant basket full of peaches sat by the empty flower vase. On the other side of the checkered tablecloth gulf the Hatter demonstrated his famous sociability by hiding behind an unfolded broadsheet.

"I'm not going anywhere before I've had breakfast," Alice announced to the room in general, or possibly to the cup of tea. It looked by far the better company.

Jack didn't even turn, the bastard, the sign he held up obviously prepared in advance.

_Good morning, Alice._  
 _You look terrible._  
 _Have you been sleeping well?_

Alice aimed a silent middle finger at the back of his head on the way to the kettle, tantalizingly visible through the open doorway of the kitchen. By all rights it should have been the Hatter pouring him tea, but the Hatter never deigned to behave in a manner befitting a host.

Alice turned, cup in hand, to see the newspaper lowered, the Hatter's eyes trained on him. He was bareheaded and the bags under his eyes looking darker than usual without the protective shade of his hat. His face was completely devoid of expression.

"Don't drink that," he said.

Alice smirked at him and took a delicate sip of his tea. Then promptly sprayed it out all over the kitchen floor. The cup followed, falling from his fingers and splashing liquid in an elegant arch before rolling away, miraculously unbroken. This at last animated the Hatter somewhat and he crossed his arms on top of the table (another rudeness), smiling slightly at Alice.

"What on earth's wrong with this tea?!" Alice managed to hack out, swallowing reflexively again and again in a futile effort to clear out the bitter taste. "Are you trying to poison me?"

The Hatter's answer couldn't be drier, or less concerned. "Not just right now."

Jack's sign rose up in the air like the eager but useless erection of a habitual masturbator.

_I'm only allowed to have wormwood tea. Queen's orders._

Alice glared at them both in turn, to very little effect. It was useless to try and make them realize just how boorish they were being. Everyone in Wonderland but Alice was so frightfully ill-mannered, really.

"So what does the Queen want with me this time? Another audience?" asked Alice, abandoning his justified indignation in favor of more practical pursuits. Like the hunters of old Alice had to track down breakfast if he wanted to eat. He cast a practiced eye about the room.

There! Some crumbs scattered on the carpet directly before the buffet in the corner. Alice strode over triumphantly and opened the doors with a flourish, smirking over his shoulder at the Hatter. On any other morning the Hatter would be giving him a black look in return, but not now; today he wasn't watching Alice. He was staring off into the distance, eyes blank. Alice frowned, displeased about being ignored. 

He dropped the plate of toasted teacakes - today's kill - on the table carelessly, pettily glad of the resulting loud clatter that served to break the Hatter out of whatever strange mood he had sunk into. He took in Alice and the plate, and positively radiated irritation. Alice plopped down beside Jack, took a showy bite of teacake and chewed obnoxiously slowly and noisily with his mouth open. The Hatter's fingers twitched, as if he longed to reach for his revolver. Oh, the day was definitely looking up.

The pastries and threatening glowers were more than an adequate distraction so Alice didn't notice that Jack had produced another sign until it was thrust in his face. Alice blinked. It took a moment further to parse it, to recall what it was an answer for.

 _Not today,_ it read. _I came to deliver a warning._

Now that sounded ominous. If there wasn't some general crisis or a more specific attempt on Alice's life going on every other day, he might even had been worried. He swallowed the bite of teacake without hurrying and drawled:

"You don't say. What's the danger this time?"

Jack wiped the sign clean with his sleeve, didn't even bother to lower it back to the table before scribbling the new message, charcoal stick dancing about in his fingers with practiced speed. The board was angled so Alice could read as the words appeared.

"The Hatter is aware of the danger. You needn't be. The Hatter's strict instructions are to keep you inside and away from other people until tomorrow morning. Until then, anyone in Wonderland might be a danger to you."

The briefest pause, less than a second, so short the Hatter couldn't have noticed, or put it down to Jack jotting down a comma if he had.

"If The Hatter deviates from these instructions, assume he is dangerous and can't be trusted."

It occurred to Alice, rather late, that one advantage of Jack's signs was how easy it was to conduct conversations in secrecy. He forced himself not to look directly at the Hatter to see whether _he_ was looking. His wandering attention focused back on the sign just in time to read Jack's last sentence before he swept the board clean. It read:

"If you think you're in danger, eat a peach."

♛ ♛ ♛

The Hatter saw Jack out and there were no cryptic messages, secret warnings, or, more usefully, explanations, to be had from him. Alice would have followed them into the street and tried to wrangle something more out of Jack, but apparently the house arrest went in effect immediately.

Alice paced the room restlessly. A warning not to trust the Hatter, that was a first. If everyone in Wonderland agreed on one thing, it was that the Hatter was completely devoted to Alice. He might say there was only 13% chance Alice was the one, but as long as he believed there was any chance at all he probably wouldn't turn on him. Possibly not even then, if he believed Alice's vow to restore the name to the original.

Still, it didn't hurt to be careful.

On that train of thought, it would probably be a good idea to take a look at those peaches while he was alone. Alice walked over to the table and took a peach in hand. It was hard, small, green and unappetizing. It looked like an ideal gift for someone you hated. There was no card in the basket.

The sound of a carriage gathering speed on the cobblestones below gave him plenty of warning. He was lounging on the sofa when the Hatter opened the door, safely away from any fruit baskets.

All the effort was a waste since the Hatter didn't even look at Alice. He pulled out his revolver and swung the barrel open for inspection, then stuffed it back in place. Then he collected his jacket from the back of a chair and his cigarettes from the coffee table, before pushing his hat firmly over his head.

"Come on. We're going out," he said, and was out the door in a second.

Alice stood frozen, and thought fleetingly about taking risks, and how now that the Hatter's time was ticking they really couldn't afford to miss any opportunities, and how there was a girl with blond hair tied with a blue ribbon somewhere Alice _really_ needed to find, for some reason or another.

Then he got up and followed the Hatter.

Right after he put a peach in his pocket.

♛ ♛ ♛

"I thought I was supposed to go to ground," said Alice, once he'd caught up with the Hatter on the street. Though catching up with the Hatter was impossible, and Alice had to settle for reducing the distance between them to two steps; he always insisted on walking in front of Alice, or behind, rarely side by side.

"I didn't know you were so keen on following orders," countered the Hatter, unperturbed.

"That stings, from someone who played a loyal subject to Her Majesty for years," said Alice. He noted they were walking towards the center square. The spiky turrets of the castle in the distance made him feel irrationally exposed, as if the Queen would just wander off to a window and catch them in the act at any moment.

"My loyalty has always been to Alice only," said the Hatter, and now there was a curious undertone shining through the habitual apathy. He sounded eager, like he expected he would get to prove his devotion soon.

It spelled danger. Alice felt himself further wound up with tension, his awareness of his surroundings growing automatically. There was the Hatter, relatively safe, and the occasional hurrying shadow of a Wonderland citizen, passing by with their hands clearly visible and their eyes averted from Alice like usual. Alice relaxed marginally, but the feeling of impending danger didn't leave altogether. The air felt heavy, charged like there was a storm coming.

"The Queen is the one who can cut your head off if you disobey a direct order. Both our heads," Alice pointed out the obvious problem. _And that's quite beside the fact that you might not be safe to be around today, for whatever reason._. But this concern he kept to himself.

"The Queen will be too busy to worry about any head but his own," said the Hatter, and turned a corner towards Wonderland Avenue. Here he stopped under a streetlamp, and took out his cigarettes with every visible sign of casualness.

Alice stopped too, and took a discreet look around, trying to figure out what they were doing here without turning fully around and attracting any Regrets. 

In the distance, Wonderland Avenue's intersection with Wonderland Boulevard marked the square at the heart of the capital, with the clock tower sticking out like the giant axle at the hub of the enormous wheel. There were people there, though perhaps fewer than on any other day, sitting on the stone benches surrounding the fountain or at the tiny round tables of the open cafe, none of them close enough to make out.

Closer still they were surrounded by shops, all of them large and giving the appearance of prosperity, as befitted the establishments on the main thoroughfare. Across the street a creature wearing dungarees on its human body and a Bavarian hat on its lop-eared rabbit head was painting a fence in a novel fashion, if you could call hurling full buckets of paint at a fence 'painting'. A dozen open containers were already neatly lined behind it on the sidewalk, so presumably the work wouldn't take that long to complete.

"So I'm not the only one in danger today; the Queen is too?" Alice asked absently. He hoped they weren't aiming to get into another hidden alley the entrance to which could be obtained only through painful humiliation and inventive, dangerous rituals. "What's happening today in any case? And why are we here?"

The Hatter paid him no mind, didn't even deign to face him, taking a long drag out of the cigarette already fuming between his lips with his eyes narrowed, like he was considering some tricky scheme and Alice wasn't even there.

"Hatter," said Alice, allowing his voice to grow nasal and more demanding in the way he knew irritated the Hatter and was therefore certain to make him respond. "Are you even listening to me?"

The Hatter didn't react at first. He was staring fixedly into space like he had at breakfast. Alice frowned without meaning to. He hadn't noticed before, but that wasn't the Hatter's usual way of ignoring Alice that was all show and bluster, while in fact the Hatter's whole focus was on Alice, Alice's surroundings and the potential dangers. No, this was true distraction. Alice felt the first serious pangs of apprehension - he hated being ignored, yes, but he'd never before felt like he might as well have been another bystander.

But then the Hatter visibly shook off whatever thoughts had occupied him, and glanced at Alice.

"I never do. It would be like listening to a dog bark - I'm sure there's some meaning to the speaker, but to the rest of us it's just bothersome noise," he said, and it was so normal Alice almost felt relieved to be so unjustifiably insulted.

"Your crude attempts at distraction won't work on me this time," Alice said, and turned around in increments so that he could look behind and avoid the Regrets. "I want answers. Start with what are we doing... here."

The last part was more of a disbelieving exhalation than a word, because Alice had seen the sweets shop. It had been right behind him on the corner, perfectly obvious, with a gaudy display of sweets in the window and a cheerful, white and cotton-candy-pink striped cloth shade. A large-lettered poster on the door proclaimed that today as a "fugue sale". Alice wondered momentarily what kind of a sweet a fugue was, but the thought quickly gave way to the enormous wave of chilly rage that rose with the discovery.

"Tell me that we're not risking a beheading because you're too cheap to miss a sale," he Alice hissed through clenched teeth.

The pause behind him was a tad too long and entirely too revealing.

"We're not. Not entirely," came the answer. Of course the Hatter didn't even have the grace to sound ashamed of himself. "I'll buy you something while we wait."

The last was muttered grudgingly, while the Hatter ground the cigarette butt under his heel and sidestepped Alice to make a beeline for the shop.

"I hope the Queen cuts off your balls to use in the next game of croquet," Alice called after him, not caring to keep his voice down.

"Suit yourself." And the Hatter left him alone on the sidewalk.

Alice fumed silently for a while, but the lop ear had started giving him suspicious looks, and the Hatter would probably be a while, so he strolled towards the display at the window. He was Alice in Wonderland, after all. Sort of. He should be getting treated to sweets every day for providing such a vital service to the country. Good sweets. Were these good?

They looked good. The window was stacked with artfully arranged jars of macaroons and meringues, toffees and Turkish delight. Directly before him was a rack of glistening caramel-colored bars. On a little carton beside them someone had written in an excessively curly cursive the words "cashew crunch".

Still, for some reason Alice didn't feel inclined to take the Hatter up on his offer. The charge of a storm approaching was stronger than ever. Alice squinted up at the clear sky. It seemed unlikely to rain, but for some reason he still moved under the shade in front of the shop. From here Alice could see the Hatter browsing the shelves, inclining his head at this or that confection, but he too seemed distracted somehow. 

Suddenly, the glass blurred, as if someone had breathed on it from too close. There was a hissing sound, like a steam engine whistle. Alice whirled around in alarm. The thought of Regrets flitted through his mind, too late, but there were none of them waiting to ambush him today. There was only the sight of the street rippling like a shaken tablecloth, the buildings jumping like rattled teacups, the sensation of his own knees bouncing underneath him as if he'd suddenly stepped on a giant trampoline. In all this confusion Alice barely heard the chime of the bell and the scratch of quick but unsteady steps coming closer until the Hatter stumbled to a stop beside his shoulder.

There was a last sickening lurch, so strong it almost knocked Alice off his feet, and then stillness. Alice let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in.

"What did just happen?" he asked, shaken, voice coming out higher and louder than intended. 

"We're in," the Hatter said, more to himself than in answer to Alice.

"In? In where?"

The Hatter turned to him and there was no mistaking it now, he was excited.

"Inside the fugue," he said, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a grimace that could almost, but not quite, pass for a smile.

♛ ♛ ♛

One of the worst things about Wonderland, Alice reflected, was that no one ever explained things to him. The only time anyone did so was to screw him over. Like the time the Queen had explained the game. Or when Jack himself had told him about his ridiculous plan to hold him hostage, and then thoroughly botched the whole thing even though Alice had generously agreed to assist him. But an explanation for Alice's benefit - that was a mythical beast yet to be seen.

So when Alice asked, without much hope, "What on earth is a fugue?" he was hardly surprised when the only answer he received was "Why don't you try and puzzle it out by yourself, if you can?" in as condescending a tone a s possible.

Alice pursed his lips, displeased, and thought some very unflattering things about the Hatter's person and lineage, before his curiosity finally got the better of him and he took a look around.

He would throttle the hatter if "fugue" turned out to be some strange Wonderlandian term for an earthquake. Alice doubted that, though. Ordinary earthquakes didn't come forewarned, and one usually didn't say they were in an earthquake. This one wasn’t even that strong in any case. A barber pole on the other side of the street had rolled over and the remains of a few shattered flower pots littered the street, but other than that everything looked fine. There weren't any cracks in the pavement. Alice shaded his eyes with a palm and squinted at the distance.

Predictably, there was a bit more activity on the square, the few people there upright instead of lounging around, the cafe owner already righting up a couple of overturned tables. Closer still, the fence painter was fussing agitatedly over his buckets, clutching close to his chest the only one which had survived the ordeal with its contents intact. The tip of his pointed snout peeking underneath the rim of his hat was splattered with green, and... Wait, rabbits didn't have pointed faces. Alice peered at the lop ear, except it wasn't a lop ear at all anymore, but a mole. It was squinting in Alice's direction with beady little eyes, and there was no mistaking it. Alice was sure it had been a rabbit the last time he looked.

Alice threw a quick questioning look towards the Hatter and only got a tolerable impression of the Sphinx in return. Of course. Alice scowled at him, but the shop window above the Hatter's shoulder distracted him. There was something moving on the shelf behind the glass, on the rack of caramel nut bars Alice had observed previously. It almost looked like a single nut was trying to break free. Alice's eyes caught sight of the label once again, and widened. Now it said: "Cockroach crunch".

"I don't think I'll be wanting that treat after all," he said, faintly. The Hatter snorted with amusement beside him. "We're not in Wonderland anymore, are we?"

"Oh, we are," said the Hatter. "We're just jumping to another square on the board. Right now we're in the fugue in between."

Board? Squares? Unanswered questions kept piling on, and Alice was still rather shaken up by the cockroach confectionaries. To think those could have been in his mouth right about then! Thus he was too distracted to resist when the Hatter caught him by the shoulders and maneuvered him to the middle of the street.

"What are you doing?"

"In a fugue, Wonderland becomes even more unpredictable. Rules don't always apply. Places and things aren't what or where they used to be before," The Hatter said, unusually forthcoming. He let go of Alice's shoulders and took as step backwards.

"Which is why there was a 'fugue sale'. I assume those wares won't turn back to normal once this fugue thing is over?" Alice said, then frowned, feeling like he was missing something. The Hatter shook his head, then took another step back. Alice's vague suspicion suddenly sharpened into paranoid certainty. "No, really, what are you d-"

That was when the mole, clearly not one to let the sudden transformation into an entire new species prevent it from finishing his task, blinked myopically and threw the last bucket of paint at the nearest large white thing. Which happened to be Alice.

A safe distance away from a frozen, gasping and furiously dripping Alice, the Hatter gave a smile showing entirely too many teeth and said smugly:

"The dye is cast."

It really was the worst damn day.

♛ ♛ ♛

"I am going to hug you, I mean it," Alice threatened.

The Hatter was currently walking on the opposite sidewalk, but that wouldn't save him. Alice would have his revenge. He hurried after his supposed bodyguard down one of the quieter side streets off Wonderland Avenue.

"I told you I'd buy you a new suit. Don't be tiresome." Suddenly he stopped and stared straight at Alice with that stupid blank expression of his that could erupt in ruthless violence in an instant. "Alice is not nearly so difficult. Alice is agreeable most of the time."

He shifted a little and as he did so his jacket opened enough to reveal the handle of the revolver tucked in its holder beneath his left arm, near his heart.

"You're not agreeable," he stated coldly. Alice felt a corresponding chill spreading down his spine. The Hatter's eyes on him were hard, unblinking, judging. This was ridiculous. Alice was the aggrieved party here, he was owed apologies here, and instead he was being questioned. He _was_ Alice in Wonderland, or at least he was the closest thing to it right now whether the Hatter liked it or not. He would not be intimidated.

"I am very agreeable when I have reason to be. Not so much when people are being purposefully rude to me." He raised his chin in the air and gave the Hatter his most imperious look. "You'd better remember that."

The Hatter's expression morphed into something more human, looking lost and puzzled for a fraction of a second. It was gone so quickly Alice wasn't even certain he hadn't imagined it, before his face settled into a more familiar look of bad-tempered resignation. He mumbled something under his breath and lead on without another word.

Once he turned, Alice took a deep, silent breath. He hadn't realized it, but he had been holding his breath during the exchange. His heart was pumping mad in his chest to compensate.

"So, are you going to tell me what you want with this tailor, or do you intend to play mysterious as usual?" Alice asked. His breathing slowed down and with the ebb of alarm irritation had started to set in.

There was a pointed lack of reply. Playing mysterious it was.

"I can't go along with your plan if I don't know anything. Why, I might _accidentally_ bungle the whole thing," said Alice.

The Hatter gave him an unimpressed look over his shoulder, but started talking.

"Just get him to tell you which city lady had the most expensive dress commissioned this week. If you manage that I might tell you more." The Hatter slowed down now, peering at the facades of every building they were passing.

"Figures," said Alice, making another desultory attempt to rid himself of the last clinging traces of paint on his skin. The suit, of course, was a lost cause. "At least this newfound generosity of yours is for a reason. I'd just gotten used to being married to a miser."

"Any husband would untie his purse strings for a beauty," said the Hatter impassively, then gave Alice a dismissive once over. "It stands to reason that _you_ don't inspire much generosity."

Alice narrowed his eyes at this.

"Yet you're buying me a suit from the most popular tailor in the city. I must be charming enough."

"Better use those charms on our tailor," the Hatter said as he stopped in front of a handsome brick building with gleaming brass details on the door frames and railings and the tasteful plague by the door. "Fair warning, he's a queer bird."

Lory  
Tailor and Dressmaker  
Excels All Others  
Skinnings While You Wait

♛ ♛ ♛

Inside, no one batted an eyelash over Alice's rather unconventional state. Judging by the lack of screams no one was getting skinned either, which Alice counted as a plus. The Hatter busied himself with the reception girl, then settled down in a comfortable-looking sofa at a reception area with what must have been the first of many cups of tea. Meanwhile Alice was ushered alone in a fitting room that was larger than the hatter's whole apartment.

Alice had just about enough time to wonder whether the Hatter had the means to be shopping here, or whether they'd have to leg it once Alice had his information, when the rather ugly and garish bird mannequin by the door preened its feathers and spoke.

"I must say you're by far the loveliest Alice I've had the pleasure of meeting so far. I do so look forward to clothing you!"

Alice just about had a stroke.

Admittedly, he had seen talking animals in Wonderland already. Also, the Hatter had mentioned birds. Also, the sign in front had actually said 'Lory'. Still, the tailor was peculiar even by Wonderland's lax standards. He didn't have human-like body and he didn't wear any clothes, he was just a giant bird with a measuring tape slung over its chest. 

"Likewise, I'm sure," Alice managed to croak out, which made the bird titter in what sounded like pleasure. "I'm sorry about dropping by without an appointment."

"Nonsense, I always have time for Alice, and of course in this case expediency is paramount," the Lory prattled on, extending one large wing behind Alice's back and escorting him to a raised platform in the middle of the room. "Dreadful accident, this, but don't you worry, we'll set you up with a new suit in no time at all. Always go out in style, that's my motto."

Alice had no idea what the Lory was talking about, but nodded all the same. If he tried to puzzle out the idle chatter of everyone here he'd never have time for anything else; the place was a madhouse.

It turned out that a bird could operate measuring tape and tailor's ruler if it put its mind to it. The Lory took measurements of Alice's chest, quickly moved onto his waist, chattering excitedly all the way so that Alice couldn't get a word in edgewise. He started doubting he could be able to say anything through the course of the whole encounter, let alone inquire discreetly about the bird's other clients. Luckily, he found an opening when the bird started complaining how busy the last month had been and how he had only had orders for female clothes.

"Everyone wants to look good for the garden party," confided the Lory, tilting Alice's chin up to wrap the tape around the base of his neck. "Especially the hostesses. Every time they get more and more demanding."

"I'm sure you rise to the occasion," said Alice, trying not to look too eager. "The hostess' dress must have been a sight to behold."

Within minutes, Alice had all the information he needed, and more. He was just congratulating himself over his skilful conduct when the Lory started measuring his inseam and said, "Polly wants a pink wafer", before feathers slid where they had no business sliding.

Apparently, queer bird was a rather more literal descriptor than Alice would have liked.

♛ ♛ ♛

The Hatter had abandoned the sofa for the street outside, and was pacing back and forth with his hands in his pockets when Alice exited the building in his new suit. It looked exactly the same as his old one, except it fit rather better. The surprise was that the Hatter wasn't alone. A grinning King Charles spaniel - a proper, dog-sized, not-talking one, thank goodness - ceased following the Hatter and wagged his tail cheerfully at Alice's approach.

Not that the Hatter appeared to notice either the dog or the suit. As soon as he saw Alice he stopped pacing, moved the latest cigarette to the corner of his lips and muttered around it with the ease of long practice.

"Well?"

"A woman on Orchard Street ordered a watered silk dress with larkspur embroideries, whatever that is," Alice said, crossly. "And next time you can be the one getting groped by perverted chickens for information."

The Hatter raised an amused eyebrow.

"My, my. I never imagined you'd go that far. Such dedication," said the Hatter, and slouched off in the direction of what Orchard street, presumably.

Alice was this close to aiming a swift kick to the seat of his pants when the spaniel trotted over to Alice and balanced on his hind paws against his legs.

"You aren't going to proposition me too, are you?" Alice asked it, half serious, and he could swear the dog rolled his eyes at him. The spaniel nudged his head against Alice’s knee and Alice noticed he held something in his mouth. He held out his hand and the dog dropped a rather wet carton square in his palm, before w once and running off into the alley between two fences.

Alice stared after it for a second, before looking at the carton. It was made out of nice, cream-colored paper like a calling card, but instead of a name and a place of residence it was only stamped with the words

N is annoying.  
It always wants to be the centre of attention.

Alice turned it round, but the back was blank.

"Don't dawdle," came the Hatter's voice behind him, and Alice quickly stuffed the card in the trouser pocket not containing the peach he'd picked up from his old suit. Between the dog slobber and the possible peach juices, he wasn't sure this one would last much longer.

"Coming, Charles," he called out, hoping that the Hatter would ask about his exchange with the spaniel just so Alice could have the pleasure of refusing to divulge anything. If the Hatter was going to keep his cards close to his chest, so would Alice.

When he turned, the Hatter's back was rigid and the cigarette was rolling on the ground, only half-finished.

"What?" Alice asked, alarmed.

"Nothing, just- don't call me that. I don't like it," the Hatter said, the click of his boots on the pavement when he walked away harder than usual.

"It was because of the dog, get it?" Alice yelled after him - rather undignified, he had to admit - and hurried to catch up. "It was no worse than your die pun."

Really, Alice thought, the man was ridiculously touchy.

♛ ♛ ♛

The house on Orchard Street looked like someone had given a drunken stone mason with a flower obsession an unlimited budget and let him loose on the unsuspecting facade. It had taken the better part of an hour for Alice and the Hatter to locate it, even though Orchard Street was a wide, fashionable street close to the centre of the city and should have been easy as pie to find.

Alice guessed it was another fugue thing, streets switching places and road signs turning into giant lollipops. He also noticed that the closer a street was to the central square, the more normal it looked. Perhaps that was why the Queen had wanted them to stay home - it wasn't exactly in the best part of the city, and any potential visitors would have had a pretty hard time getting there.

The carriage gate was closed and padlocked, but a panel on the service gate out back slid open at the sound of their footsteps. One enormous baleful eye took up the whole opening.

"Who goes there?" croaked an equally dour voice.

"The Mad Hatter and Alice, here for the garden party," said the Hatter, and the eye did something singularly disgusting, which Alice supposed was this creature's equivalent of blinking.

"I'll see if the mistress is home," the voice informed them before the eye disappeared and the opening slammed shut.

Alice glanced down the street to make sure they were alone, then leaned closer to the Hatter.

"I got us this address, so how about you tell me that more now," he said, quietly but insistently. "What are we looking for here?"

A few seconds passed, with the Hatter showing no sign of answering.

"Look, I want to help with whatever your plan is. I just want to know what's going on. I thought we agreed we both want the same thing - for Wonderland to have the real Alice once and for all," Alice said, showing inhuman patience and tact, if he did say so himself. "So why do you still insist on keeping me in the dark?"

There was a tense silence. This close Alice could practically hear the argument the Hatter was having with himself. Suddenly it occurred to him that this may be more than just the Hatter being difficult and taciturn. It all felt too... calculated. Maybe it wasn't a question of Alice persuading him to talk, maybe the Hatter was deliberately keeping secrets. From under the brim of his hat, the Hatter's eyes were trained on Alice, assessing. Alice could only hope his own suspicions weren't completely transparent. Finally, the Hatter seemed to come to a decision.

"We're looking for someone," he says, and clams right up.

"Not the White Rabbit, I take it?" Alice cajoles, hoping the Hatter would keep talking. They're both speaking quietly, almost whispering; Alice doesn't know if it's because they're sharing secrets, or because it's just that kind of moment.

"No. Your might not be able to kill him here."

Alice had figured as much, if they were hunting for the rabbit it would be business as usual and the Hatter wouldn't be so secretive. He waved his hand impatiently for the Hatter to go on.

"The Queen of Hearts exiled someone here, a character Wonderland needs to function. The King of Hearts," the Hatter obliges, for once, and Alice knows he should probably keep quiet and let him talk while he's willing to, but he can't help himself.

"I didn't even know there was a King. How come he got exiled? Didn't he have more power than the Queen?"

The Hatter shrugged.

"The Queen made an announcement that a very important character had died, so important that Wonderland couldn't wait for the rabbit to find a replacement. Officially, the king volunteered to take on a second role, but it's obvious the Queen just wanted to be rid of him." 

Alice bit his lip, thinking furiously. It made sense. If the Queen had a problem with a person inhabiting a particular character, he could just invent an excuse to behead whoever it was. But a king was different. No matter who held the position they could be trouble, so the Queen would have to get the whole character out of the way.

"What is his second role then?"

"No one knows for sure. It's something that requires him to stay in the fugue, and stay asleep."

"Asleep? All the time? What if we can't wake him up to talk to him?"

"It's worth a try."

It was, probably, the King could know all sorts of useful secrets. Maybe even where the real Alice was. But Alice still felt something wasn't quite right with the picture. Something made him wary of getting involved.

"And you think we can find a lead on him at this party?" He asked, trying to pinpoint the slippery root of the feeling.

"The biggest gossips in Wonderland attend, and in a fugue no one needs to watch what they say around Alice."

"Why not? Their rules might not matter now, but surely the Queen won't be pleased if they blabber on about something like this?" Alice keeps prodding, and when the Hatter's mouth tightens minutely in displeasure he knows he's onto something. "Wait, if there are no rules, does that mean you can't kill anyone who threatens me either? Was that why the Queen ordered us to lay low?"

He knew he'd missed the real issue by the way the Hatter relaxed almost imperceptibly.

"You don't have to worry about that," he told Alice, just as the gate clicked open, and his face might have been molded out of wax for all the emotion it gave away. "It means that I can kill anyone, whether they threaten you or not."

♛ ♛ ♛

"Why are they calling it a garden party? We're in a drawing room, aren't we?" Alice murmured through the corner of his mouth.

"Never mind that. Just compliment someone every few minutes, don't eat anything, and don't mention caterpillars. " The Hatter answered in much the same fashion. His eyes swept from one end of the room to the other. "And leave the talking to me."

That was rather unfair, Alice thought. He was starting to wonder if the Hatter wasn't just being difficult here. It looked like a nice party, the confusing location notwithstanding. Most of the guests were pretty young women, and wasn't that a nice surprise. The hostess had invited them in with good grace even though neither of them had an invitation. Three whole tables in the middle of the room were piled with what seemed from a distance to be chocolate sponge cakes with pink sugar frosting. At least Alice thought so. He hadn't yet had the opportunity to investigate.

"I am just thrilled to have you, Alice. And your companion, of course," the hostess was saying. Her hat somehow managed to be both extravagant and banal at the same time, garnished with so many elongated blue flowers Alice imagined someone somewhere must have cleared out a whole meadow to make it. Hats like that seemed to be in fashion at this party, actually; Alice couldn't see a single lady without one. "Some variety is ever so nice, I would have hated to have missed you."

She said the last part with a knowing smile aimed at the Hatter, as if she were referring to a shared in-joke Alice wasn't aware of. For his part, the Hatter didn't look like he was feeling any solidarity over shared secrets. He looked grim enough to fit right in a wake, actually.

The woman's smile only grew.

"How do you take your tea, Alice?" she asked, sweetly polite, turning attentively towards Alice as if his answer was immensely important.

"He takes it with his hands," the Hatter answered before Alice could, and herded him towards a love seat disappointingly far from cake. Alice frowned at that; he'd hoped to sit flanked by a couple of pretty girls hanging on his every word, not next to a scowling Hatter who barely paid attention to anything Alice said.

Still, a blond woman with a hat drowning in roses smiled at him from the armchair on his right, and another one with a heart-shaped face and a daisy bonnet waved at him from across the room like they were old friends, and Alice felt the party might not be a total bore.

The hostess - Alice had missed her name somehow - banged a silver spoon against her teacup to get everyone's attention. The last stragglers hurried to find a place to sit, and Alice straightened in anticipation.

"Welcome, welcome, dear friends," the hostess said. Some ladies in the audience snickered behind their gloved hands as if she'd said a fabulous joke. "Here's to another opportunity to let our tendrils down, as it were."

Several of the guests raised their cups in acknowledgement.

"Is everyone here?" said someone.

The woman with the roses suddenly tittered disapprovingly.

"Primrose is absent, again. Probably sleeping in like usual," she leaned forward in her chair confidentially. "Night bloomers."

There was a general titter of agreement.

"I can't see Foxglove either," remarked an unseen voice from behind a large ornamental vase. The Hatter's chin jerked upwards before he caught himself and took a hasty sip from his tea to hide his interest. Alice looked around surreptitiously to see if anyone had noticed and caught the hostess's thin smile.

"Oh, you don't know?" she said, addressing the speaker while her eyes didn't leave the Hatter. "She was attacked this morning in the middle of the street. Someone cut her hair clean off. Ghastly business."

A chorus of theatrical gasps followed the declaration.

"Poor thing."

"She must be crying her eyes out."

"Who would do such a thing?"

"Not one of us, I hope."

The last was said cheekily, but Alice still fancied he caught more than a few maliciously delighted expressions. He was starting to get on edge here.

"Well, I'm sure she'll be back with us in no time," interjected the hostess smoothly. "In the meantime, do try the cakes before they dry out."

Right on cue several frog footmen filed in and started serving cake. Alice would have thought being served by a slimy, goggling thing would spoil anyone's appetite but the women attacked the cakes ferociously. The pretty girl with the daisy hat stuffed her face with such gusto black crumbs stuck all over her bulging cheeks. Alice's blond neighbor peeled away a long strip of pink frosting and held it over her open mouth like a snake about to swallow a mouse. Alice blinked. For a moment he almost thought the frosting was moving.

He was suddenly very glad no one offered him a cake.

Next to him, the Hatter was slouching nonchalantly, but he was so still Alice could have forgotten he was there, if he hadn't been the only person around who wasn't creeping Alice out. He elbowed the Hatter as unobtrusively as he could. The Hatter raised a quizzical eyebrow at him, then shook his head when Alice pointedly glanced at the door. Obviously they wouldn't be leaving yet, but Alice still wished the Hatter would get a move on. If he didn't start doing any information gathering soon Alice would have to step up.

"Before I forget," said the hostess once the feeding frenzy had died down somewhat. "It seems there will be an unexpected diversion this afternoon."

"You mean the hanging? I hate those, they're always so stuffy and it's such an effort to get a good spot. An old-fashioned spontaneous beheading is so much more refreshing, don't you think?"

"What's the point in scheduling a hanging during a fugue anyway?"

The conversation seemed to have gotten livelier with the introduction of such a meaty subject. Small groups of guests began gathering around sofas and in corners. Alice's neck prickled and he fought to suppress the urge to go and stand with his back to a wall so no one could creep up behind him.

As if to give credence to his fears the hostess glided over with eerie quietness.

"I hope you're enjoying yourselves," she said, and perched on the armrest on the Hatter's side of the loveseat. The Hatter immediately leaned away from her without even a rudimentary attempt to avoid being obvious.

"I can't recall the last time I had so much fun," said Alice. The last time he was getting shot at, probably.

"I'm glad," said the woman, and looked down at the Hatter. "You should go to the execution. Rumor has it the condemned is one of the King's men. He can't attend in person, of course, but perhaps he'll send his trusted right hand instead. Last words can be so difficult to manage, don't you think?"

The Hatter nodded once. Alice pursed his lips in mounting irritation. It wasn't simply that he had failed to follow the conversation; he had been metaphorically kicked aside into the gutter while the conversation zoomed past him and behind the horizon in a cloud of dust.

"Now, I'd better attend my other guests, or they'd be talk," she laughed, and Alice could see some black substance stuck in the cracks between her teeth. Up close it looked nothing like chocolate.

"Thank you. You have been most helpful," the Hatter told her, sounding very nearly like he meant it. Alice didn't see what there was to be grateful for, except for passable tea, boring gossip and a lack of appetite in the foreseeable future, but he felt it was inadvisable to say so just now.

The woman sighed regretfully. "I would have demanded payment, you know. If I thought you wouldn't dodge it until I forgot you owed me anything."

She moved on, and Alice and the Hatter slipped out of the house under the unblinking gazes of an army of footmen. Alice felt he could be almost fond of the Duchess's butler now - at least there was only one of him.

♛ ♛ ♛

"Want me to tell you what I got from all that?" Alice asked once they were safely out in the street. Mind you, it seemed to be a different street than before, but right now Alice wasn't feeling picky.

"I can scarcely contain my curiosity," said the Hatter. He hesitated briefly, then took a left turn between two hedgerows. Alice let him lead, too caught up in his clever suppositions to point out that the Hatter probably had no idea where anything was.

"You intend to follow the King's servant or make him lead us to him," Alice said, and the Hatter gave a little mocking ovation.

"Outstanding."

"High time you realized I was," Alice said conversationally. "I can be even more impressive. For example, isn't it curious that she knew we were looking for the King of Hearts without you saying a word?"

"Maybe I gave her a signal and you didn't notice."

"Or maybe you have been looking for the King every time you were in a fugue, and you never found him," the Hatter didn't answer, but it was obvious Alice had hit a nerve. Alice grinned and leaned against the Hatter's shoulder. "Never fear. This time you have me at your disposal, and I'll definitely discover that stinking king in no time."

"Promises, promises. I've yet to see you follow through on any of them. You're all talk," the Hatter said, and Alice could practically hear the smirk in his voice. He bristled indignantly.

"Says the man whose job is to protect Alices and who's lost eighty-eight of them by last count. Now that's impressive. I'm starting to wonder if you got some of them killed on purpose, otherwise there's no excuse for that kind of incompetence."

The even rhythm of the Hatter's footsteps faltered, and Alice wondered if he hadn't gone too far. The man was so weird where Alice was concerned. The last thing Alice needed was to get shot at again by his own bodyguard. He considered apologizing, but rejected the idea immediately. He hadn't said anything wrong, and he'd been accommodating the Hatter's creepy obsession with Alice enough as it was.

They made their way across the empty streets of the town in silence, the pointed silhouette of the clock tower growing closer and closer.

♛ ♛ ♛

If Alice had wondered where the inhabitants of Wonderland had gone to, reaching the square solved that little mystery; it seemed like half the town had gathered in there. It was worse than the damn parades where the multitudes were stretched out along whole streets. Here, everyone was crowded together. Concession stands and balloon-sellers were dotted here and there. A seemingly never-ending procession of victorias around the perimeter marked the boundary of the gathering, off to be parked out of the way by bored coachmen while their owners strolled about, chatting with acquaintances and snacking. All to kill the time waiting for the main entertainment of the day to begin.

What that was could be easily guessed by the large raised scaffold in the middle of the square.

"There's so many people," said Alice. It came out too low in the din of rushing people, but the Hatter heard him anyway.

"More will come," the Hatter answered, scanning the crowd as he spoke. "Executions start at sunset, and by then you won't be able to drop a needle in here."

"We're staying here until sunset?" Alice asked, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the idea. It wasn't even noon yet, and he didn't relish the idea of being jostled by the masses of people for hours on end.

"I know a pub that has rooms for rent on the first floor. We'll watch for the King's servant from the terrace." He put his hand on Alice's shoulder and started to steer him through the throng. Alice suppressed the urge to twist away. An airy terrace above the worst of the noise didn't sound so bad, and Alice imagined some kind of food could be obtained there as well.

Usually everyone made way for Alice, but this time the weakness of rules in the fugue coupled with the simple fact that it was hard to notice who anyone was before you bumped into them to the result that they progressed to slowly for Alice's taste.

The Hatter's hand was firm and somehow impersonal, and Alice almost forgot it was there until they reached the line of carriages and it tightened on his shoulder to keep him back. Up close the carriages were going pretty fast and the large, lacquered wheels looked nothing if not intimidating. They rushed one after the other, no one wanting to give way to the groups of pedestrians waiting for an opening to cross.

Alice gave another passing coachman a dirty look and was seriously considering grabbing a nearby woman's parasol and jamming it between the spokes of the next carriage to come along when a hand fell on his other shoulder. Alice jumped.

"So sorry, didn't mean to startle you," said a cheerful voice practically in Alice's ear, and he twisted around to see... the King Charles spaniel, tongue lolling happily out of its mouth. For one second he thought the dog had spoken, before noticing that it was held in someone's arms. In Alice's defense, the man looked so unremarkable he was nearly blending into the background. He was wearing black like the Hatter. Unlike the Hatter he didn't look like a cross between a homicidal mortician and the type of opium-addled romantic poet who killed his lovers for cheating on him every other week. More like a country vicar. His non-descript face rearranged itself into a non-descript smile.

"Thought to come and say hello, us early birds should stick together. I have to be here later on, of course, but you might be dead by then," said the man. His beady black eyes that nestled in crow's feet when he smiled. "Ever so happy to see you alive by the way. Keep it up, keep it up."

"Do I know you?" asked Alice, very certain that he did not. The Hatter shifted on his other side, the motion clear through the shift of muscles and weight where they bodies made contact. Strange that he hadn't taken interest in the conversation before then, thought Alice.

"Oh, forgot to say, your friend here can't see or hear me. Terribly impolite of me, but he does tend to profess wanting to kill me every time we meet," said the man. He kept sidestepping to and fro while he talked, like a bird on a branch.

"Who are you talking to?" said the Hatter. He tried to pull Alice behind his back without waiting for an answer.

Alice resisted, half due to an instinctual desire to be contrary, half due to curiosity. He wanted to ask about the card, the invisibility, the man's reason for approaching him.

"Can't blame him, really. Well, I can't. The other Alices couldn't either. After all, he did his best to protect them. But he's not really trying with you. Letting you run around like that during a fugue. Using you as bait," the man clucked in disapproval. "Not very nice, that. Watch your back, little Alice."

The Hatter had evidently given up trying to herd Alice and just stepped between him and the man, probably using the direction Alice was looking at to guess where the invisible threat was. His pistol was out, and his head was cocked to the side as if he intended to shoot by hearing only. The crowd around them was clamoring to pull back, the cobblestones already cleared around them in a wide semi-circle. Alice noticed all this distantly, but the only thing he could focus on was the man's words.

"You didn't know? Every single Alice that's entered a fugue's come out dead," the man said, and watched Alice with undisguised pity. Even the dog looked like it felt sorry for him.

Alice had so many questions swirling around in his head he couldn't pick one to start with. He licked his lips, about to say something, he didn't know what, when something changed. The man's placid features sharpened with alertness, and even the dog stretched its neck and growled. The Hatter whirled around on some instinct, perhaps, but he could do nothing when an unseen force pushed Alice back straight into the path of the next clattering carriage.

Alice fell, and while he did time seemed to stretch comically. He could see the Hatter's face clearly, eyes wide and lips pulled back from his teeth in a growl. He could see the words the strange man mouthed, even if he couldn't hear them for the sudden roar of blood in his ears.

"Oh, dear," said the man. "Here we go again."

Then he hit the ground back first, and saw the black shape of a wheel coming at him on the edge of his vision.

♛ ♛ ♛

Alice had heard somewhere that people often froze in the face of immediate danger. He didn't remember where, which probably meant it happened before he went to wonderland. That was strange, come to think of it. He knew useless details like that, he knew when the Hatter was mangling Caesar quotes, but he wasn't able to recall a single thing about his life.

Alice didn't freeze, his body rolled away without consulting his mind at all. The wheels smashed against the pavement right where Alice’s head had been a fraction of a second ago even as the coachman tried to swerve to avoid Alice and stop the victoria at the same time. If he had tried to swerve left he would have run over Alice anyway, but he swerved right. The next carriage was already thundering over, but its driver had more time to react. He must have thought the open space on the left would be a better option than smashing into the back of the coach that nearly hit Alice, so he pulled on the reins and directed the carriage there.

That left Alice enclosed on all sides by carriages. He sat up, wobbling, and sound rushed back in. All the noise of horses, people and vehicles, even of distant music overwhelmed him for a moment. Alice braced his elbows on his knees and as he took a deep breath he felt something in his pocket.

The shouting suddenly grew even louder. Alice looked up just in time to see the Hatter looking down at him from the side of a carriage. The revolver dangled forgotten from his fingers. He'd lost his hat and his hair had spilled on his face, covering one of his eyes, but the other looked wide and glassy and was boring into Alice with a savage intensity.

When he saw Alice was alive, his shoulders sank and he swayed as if he was about to collapse. It was this, finally, that made Alice realize how angry he was.

Calmly, re reached into his pocket, took out the peach and raised it to his lips. Then, looking straight into the Hatter's eyes, Alice took a bite.

♛ ♛ ♛

There was a wet, sucking feeling like Alice was the last drop of juice being sucked through a straw, then he was lying sprawled on a lumpy surface in pitch blackness.

Which was pretty much what Alice had expected and probably meant he was getting the hang of Wonderland. Not so much the lumpiness though, that was a surprise. Alice groped at his current bedding, and his palm slid over the unmistakable fuzzy skin of another peach. He reached further, just in case, until it was certain, he was lying on a bed of peaches.

Alice sprawled like a starfish. It was peaches as far as he could touch, so level it couldn't be a simple pile. He turned over on his stomach and buried his arm in the peaches. It sunk to the elbow but the tips of his fingers only skittered across more fruit.

"Where the hell am I?" he whispered to himself.

A tiny, reedy voice answered him.

"You're in the peach pit, of course. Don't you watch where you're going?"

Alice considered the whole situation in the space of several heartbeats.

"You're a worm, aren't you?" he asked, resigned.

"Course I am."

Alice nodded, though there was no one to see him. Unless worms had night vision. He wasn't even sure worms had eyes at all, actually. Anyway, ending up in some weird place full of peaches and talking worms was par for the course. For all Alice knew, he could be in a peach desert stretching miles on either side and he would have to wait for days for the Queen to assemble a rescue party for him, eating peaches and getting to know the worm civilizations or something.

He wasn’t really that bothered about getting out of there. Alice had been swept along with the Hatter the whole day, and he hadn't had time to think. It didn't help that his default state around the Hatter ranged from mild irritation to speechless anger. But he needed to think if he wanted to stay alive.

From the beginning, Alice hadn't let himself depend on the Hatter. Not that he'd needed to, Alice was amazing, certainly far superior to all the Alice candidates before him, and he would surely win. In a fair game. But the game wasn't fair, everyone who wasn't trying to rig it wasn't playing by the rules, and Alice was sick of it. 

He'd told the Hatter that restoring the true Alice to her name was his real purpose, the true meaning of his existence and the only course he could follow and still live with himself. He'd thought, at least, that the Hatter would be his ally after that, instead of another potential enemy judging his every move, ready to put a bullet in the back of his head the moment he didn't live up to his ideal of Alice.

The problem was the Hatter wasn't capable of being rational where Alice was concerned. He had to protect Alice; that was his rule. Many residents of Wonderland followed their rule without wanting to, with no inner compulsion to do so aside from wanting to stay alive. But for the Hatter it was more than that. By his own admission, he loved Alice, he _wanted_ to protect Alice. In his case, the function in the game he was given aligned perfectly with his own wish, and that was worrying. It either meant the position in the game could influence whoever was holding it, or the Hatter was given this position in the first place because he was obsessed with Alice. If the latter was true, it meant he had known Alice before Wonderland.

On any given day Alice couldn't be sure the Hatter wouldn't flip out like he had during the Alice fixed holiday and mindlessly try to kill him. The idea that he would use Alice as bait to catch whoever was killing Alices in the fugues sounded depressingly plausible.

Alice's fingers clenched in frustration around a peach, squishing it into a pulp. Confound the Hatter, who needed him? He was going to win this game, and every other game in Wonderland. And then he would make the Hatter eat every doubtful word he'd thought about Alice.

He tried to forget the way the Hatter had looked when he hadn't know if Alice lived or not. That was a meaningless reaction, no doubt due to some lingering protective instincts the Hatter had for all Alices, even the ones he thought were obviously unsuitable. Those counted for nothing. They certainly weren't enough to stop the Hatter from using Alice, so who cared how he felt. In fact, Alice would have been happy if he could believe at that moment the Hatter was frantic with worry and anger over his disappearance. As if. Likely he was cursing Alice for ruining his plan and already wondering what Alice number 90 would look like. Knowing him, he hoped for a six-year-old brat in pigtails, the lolicon bastard.

Alice gritted his teeth. He wasn't going to think about the Hatter. Alice was on his own for now. On his own avoiding an experienced Alice-murderer. No wonder everyone he'd met that day had talked or acted like he was a goner.

That was an even bigger problem, because as far as Alice could make out the Hatter thought the man with the spaniel had been killing the Alices. He was probably the servant of the king of Hearts they were waiting on too. Come to think of it, was the whole story about the King's exile true? Alice would venture it was, but that meeting him wasn't the Hatter's primary purpose. He probably wanted to deal with the person he thought was killing Alices, then confront the King for an explanation about the actions of his servant, among other things.

Unlike the Hatter Alice could see the man, and he distinctly remembered seeing him standing more than an arm's reach away and holding a dog with both hands when Alice was pushed. Unless he was a madman with the ability to push people with the power of his mind, which could not be entirely discounted, and how crazy was Alice's life if he had to consider that possibility, he wasn't the murderer.

Alice sighed in frustration.

"Oh, you're still alive then," said the worm, sounding much closer than last time. Alice reeled back.

"Why wouldn't I be?" The worm had sounded much too disappointed for his taste. His imagination was already conjuring visions of armies of slobbering worms holding tiny knives and forks, with tiny bibs tied around their bodies, advancing towards Alice in the darkness.

"No reason. It's just that I wouldn't say no to a change of diet. To tell you the truth, I'm sick of peaches."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not dying any time soon. I'm getting out of here," Alice said, rather belligerently.

"All right," said the worm agreeably. "Could you please use the ring ladder behind you? You might squish me on the way to the other one."

♛ ♛ ♛

Apparently, the vast realm of peaches was a product of Alice's imagination, and the peach pit was, in fact, an actual pit full of peaches. Just a couple of meters behind him was the stone wall of the pit, with a line of solid metal rungs riveted securely to it and leading to the surface.

Alice started climbing, then though better of it, jumped down and filled his pockets with peaches, just in case. The metal rungs were cold and slippery, but Alice was careful with his hold, and managed to ascend to the wooden covering of the pit without slipping once. He felt around the wood until he found a handle, and pushed. The heavy trap door swung open on well-oiled hinges, and light flooded Alice's vision. He squinted against the brightness, clambering out of the hatch mostly by touch.

Then his eyes adjusted to the light, and he realized saw where he was. Namely sitting in the middle of a circle full of city guards. The fact that they were all facing away from him was barely any consolation at all.

"It's so unfair. Why do we have to stand guard duty instead of going to the hanging like everyone else?" said one.

"Hear, hear." said another. "I was going to bring my girl. She bought a new dress and everything."

"Yeah. Who knows how long it will be until someone steals the Queen's tarts again and there's another trial?"

"I'd wager the Knave is stealing His Majesty's tarts right now, hur hur."

"It's not like Alice is really going to show up. As if the Hatter would ever let Alice out of his sight. Touched in the head, that one."

"I don't know, it's a boy this time. Not even a cute, girly boy."

"I bet it doesn't matter to the Hatter. I'm telling you, touched in the head that one. He'd probably fuck a goat if you called it Alice. I bet he has that kid tied up in bed right now and is giving him the rogering of his l-"

On the negative side, they might not have tied Alice up head to toe, or gagged him, or put a hood over his head if he hadn't shouted "boo" right next to that soldier's ear.

On the positive side, he would remember the moment fondly for the rest of his life. Especially the part where the man peed himself.

♛ ♛ ♛

The carpet was a clue. There were no carpets in the castle's dungeon, and Alice doubted they'd done any redecorating since he'd been there. Alice wasn't in the dungeon, which surprised him somewhat. He expected he would be left there until the end of the fugue for his protection. Instead, he'd been carried off into an unknown direction, up some stairs and set down on a carpet.

Alice was pleased with the deduction, which was while he was a little disappointed when someone spoke in the next second and made it redundant.

"Do you think he's all right, Dee?"

"How should I know? Untie him and ask, Dum-dum."

"Don't call me that!"

Funny, but the two voices sounded exactly the same. The next moment he could feel two sets of hands on him, tugging off the black hood, pulling away the cloth from his mouth, cutting the ropes off him. Alice swallowed painfully, mouth chafed and tender in the corners, and narrowed his eyes against the glare of light for the second time in an hour.

The twins kneeling next to him gave him an identical set of grins. They were dressed in the same too, white shorts, white jackets, black shirts and white caps.

"All right there, Alice?" asked one of them.

Alice sat up gingerly, not bothering to answer. He wasn't sure about the answer himself, actually. He rubbed at his wrists, trying to ignore the rope burn and the forming bruises and looked around. He was in an office. Or at least, Alice thought so. There was a bureau, a large gleaming one without a single paper on its surface, but the bulk of the room was filled with a sitting area. Two wide, cushy couches and two high-backed leather armchairs were arranged around a coffee table, so that the bureau looked more like a formality. Alice took a moment to resent the fact that he'd been dropped right beside one of the couches instead of on it.

"Where am I?" Alice asked, and frowned when the question came off as a croak.

"In the Town Hall." answered one twin.

"The mayor's office," added another.

"Queen's orders."

"The castle isn't safe."

"Too far from the clocktower."

"Everything scrambled there."

They seemed harmless enough, but talking to them was like watching a tennis match. Alice thought he would get a crick in the neck in no time.

"Just. How about only one of you answer when I ask a question?" he offered. The twins nodded in unison. They looked a few years younger than Alice, fourteen or fifteen, but they acted much more childishly. Then again, not everyone could be as mature for his age as Alice was.

"The mayor will be right back. He had to go out because the Kitty and Snowdrop escaped again," said one kid.

"We will keep Alice safe until then," said the other. "After that, too."

"Thanks," said Alice, not entirely managing to keep the sarcasm from showing, but the twins didn't seem to notice.

He shuffled backwards onto the couch. It was so comfortable he almost groaned. He thought longingly about stretching out here and just napping until the damn fugue was over. He couldn't though, he had things to do.

"Look, I appreciate the Queen's trying to protect me, but I really don't need it. I actually ate that peach by mistake, I was hungry and it was the first thing I grabbed," he said, hoping it sounded convincing. He might not be at the top of his game right now, what with the assassination attempt, the jostling and the fact that he'd missed lunch, but he should at least be able to fool a couple of brats. "I'll just be on my way now, the Hatter's probably shooting people left and right trying to find me."

It was much better to keep his and the Hatter's... disagreements away from the Queen. Alice still hoped the Hatter could be reasoned with, but if the Queen got involved, someone would most certainly lose his head, and Alice wasn't certain it wouldn't be him. He suspected one of the criteria for Wonderland’s Alice was the Hatter's approval, and if the Hatter told the Queen Alice wasn't the real Alice he would find himself a head shorter real fast.

"The Hatter would be fine. You shouldn't spoil him so much, Alice. Much better the other way around." The kid's eyes twinkled knowingly. Alice wondered if everyone in this blasted country was convinced he and the Hatter were having relations.

"Yes. Stay and have tea with us, Alice."

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door and a chameleon rustled in, balancing a tea tray on his tongue. The tongue shot out past Alice's face and deposited the tray on the table with barely a clatter. Not a drop of tea got spilled. Alice nearly bit through his own tongue.

The twin on the right started pouring out tea, putting three sugars in Alice’s without asking.

"I'm Tweedledee, and that's Tweedledum, by the way," he said, handing Alice his teacup. "But we'd rather you drop the tweedle part."

Alice gave up for the moment. He really was hungry, the tea was very good, and under the silver lid the toast was still hot enough that butter would melt on top. It wouldn't be critical if he postponed his escape for half an hour. The kids settled down on the couch opposite Alice, and the three of them tucked in. It was easily the best moment of Alice’s day so far, until the door opened and the mayor barged in.

"Damn cats, they'll be the death of me." The voice was booming, but that rather fit, seeing as the man was as large as a small mountain. Also like one, he was thicker closest to the ground, with short stubby legs and voluminous behind, topped by a wide stomach and narrow shoulders. The long, drooping moustache made him look like a walrus. "Alice, are yer? Got yourself into trouble again?"

The mayor leaned down to shake Alice’s hand, and Alice just managed to proffer it before the man had lifted it from Alice's lap. His hot, foul-smelling breath hit Alice in the face and nearly made him shudder. He was afraid the man would want to sit next to him, but to Alice’s fervent relief he headed towards the twins' couch.

Tweedledum jumped up like jack-in-the-box to let him sit in the middle.

"Tea, Mr. Mayor, sir," said Tweedledum, sickeningly sweetly. The walrus nodded, several of his double chins wobbling officiously at that, and the kids scrambled to pour him tea and hand him sandwiches. Alice watched the scene with bemusement. Before, the twins had seemed nice and polite if a little dim, but now they acted downright obsequious and empty-headed.

"Ah, my little oysters. What would I do without you?" said the mayor, and stroked Tweedledee's bare knee with his doughy hand. Tweedledee's expression stayed pleasantly neutral. Alice felt as if something was trying to claw his way out of his stomach. He set his teacup on the table.

"We were just telling Alice that he can't possibly leave yet. We wouldn't want him to miss you signing the execution order."

"Yes, yes, of course," grumbled the mayor, His moustache was trailing in his teacup.

"Here it is," said Tweedledee and produced a clipboard like a magician pulling out a rabbit from a hat. He winked at Alice, so quickly Alice wondered if it had been his imagination.

The mayor signed the document hastily, clearly in a hurry to get back to his food.

"Wait, that wasn't the right one," gasped Tweedledum and pulled up another sheet of paper. "Dee, you are such a dunce."

The mustache quivered with displeasure, but the second document was signed as quickly as the first.

"I really can't tell who the right one is," said Tweedledee, and pressed one palm to his cheek. "What do you think, Alice?"

The two sheets of paper he handed Alice contained only one sentence each. One said, "Hang him not, free him", the other, "Hang him, not free him".

"Depends on whether you want whoever it is dead or not," Alice said. "Anyway, I thought the Queen gave the orders for executions."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because the walrus turned crimson and puffed up like a balloon.

"The Queen! Don't talk to me about the Queen! He acts like he's the only one around here with any right to rule, walking around with his nose in the air. Well, there are things that could come out and wipe the smirk off his face, is all I'm saying," he told Alice, wagging his eyebrows meaningfully.

"All this legal nonsense gives me a headache," Tweedledee said. "Ooh, let's play a game."

"What kind of game?" The Mayor asked, with the suspiciousness of someone who was too stupid to be good at games and therefore disliked them.

"A tea game," Tweedledum asked instead of his brother. "It's a very funny game. You exchange your teacup with the person opposite you, and then you drink."

"That's it?" asked the mayor. "Sounds nice."

Alice was just about to object, owing to the fact he was sitting opposite the mayor and had absolutely no desire to touch anything that had come into contact with him, ever. He'd opened his mouth and drawn in a breath, when one of the tweedles hit him.

"Here, I'll do it," Tweedledee said, and switched the cups with the same performing magician swiftness. The walrus mayor and the two kids raised their teacups to drink. Alice didn't move to touch his. The twins’ eyes looked big and intent over the rims of their teacups. Everyone took a sip.

The mayor didn't even have time to lower the cup, he dropped it and fell back convulsing on the couch. The tweedles set their own cups down on the table, businesslike.

"That went well," said Tweedledum. Then he seemed to remember something and hastily added. "There is only me, Dee and Alice in this room. Actually, there's only us, some chameleons, cats and clerks in the whole building. I think that covers it."

His brother nodded, and they both smiled at Alice, just as they'd done when he saw them for the first time.

Alice thought he should be scared. Somebody just died in front of him, either by a poison intended for him or as a demonstration from two crazy, dangerous brats who spoke in meaningless riddles. If he'd learned anything today was that meaningless riddles often held meaning, and the meaning was probably that Alice was screwed. He _was_ scared, but it was an insignificant, distant thing. Mostly he was fed up with everyone just thinking he'd fall in line with their plans. It was like he'd felt when he'd shot off the Cheshire's paw.

Alice lunged for the door. The kids hadn't expected this, because he managed to reach it, plunge through and slam the door shut before they could stop him. Two bodies thumped against the door, and Alice took down the door while they were still hopefully dizzy from the hit. He ran down a dark, wood-paneled corridor with deep-set windows. Hopefully the staircase was somewhere around here. He passed a couple of humans and a few chameleons who craned their necks as he flashed past. Behind him, one of the tweedles shouted.

"Stop him! Alice is running away! Stop him!"

A whisper of air and a hint of movement was his only warning, but Alice managed to stagger aside from the stabbing tongue. It hit the wall next to Alice’s head and punched a hole into the sturdy oak as if it was sponge cake. Alice ducked into the nearest doorway, smashed the door shut and leaned against it with all his weight. No way could he get to the stairway with those things after him. He was better off jumping off the window considering he'd only been carried up one flight of stairs.

Except when he took a look around where he'd ended up, it turned out he was in a toilets. The only windows were 10cm wide gashes near the ceiling. Alice swore under his breath. It was too late to try a different room now, the sounds of pursuit on the other side of the door were too close. But if this was a toilet… He whirled around to see the door was indeed fitted with a bolt, and pushed it in place a moment before someone rattled the door handle.

"Come out, Alice," said one of the twins from the outside. "We only want to keep you safe, we promise. On His Majesty's orders. You don't want to get us in trouble with him, do you?"

It was probably true, and for all that they'd just killed a man in cold blood, Alice didn't want the twins to be in trouble with the Queen. He didn't even have a plan, out of the stubborn desire to get out of here. Despite that, he didn't want to just open the door and come quietly. He turned around, looking for a way out.

It was a big mistake, of course. In the corners shadows were already gathering, enough shadows for many regrets to form. Alice didn't have his pistol, but even if he had, he doubted he could have shot them all. He hit the outside wall with his fist. On the other side of it was freedom, but Alice couldn't reach it.

There were graffiti there, unusually for an institutional toilet. Right on the level of Alice's eyes was a dirty little poem, because even toilet defilers had poets among them.

Beware the One-Eyed Trouser Trout, my son!  
The wriggling flesh, the harpoon gun!  
Beware the Pit Viper, and flee  
The infamous Bologna Pony!"

Alice giggled against his sleeve. The whisper of regrets taking shape had grown into a hiss, so loud that they could probably hear it through the door as well, judging by the frantic orders to break it down. Alice's eyes slid down from the poem to another scribbling.

N is annoying.  
It always wants to be the center of attention.

Wait, wasn't that what was written on that card. Alice had put it in the pocket of his suit then, but after so much rolling around it would be a miracle if it was still there. He fumbled with his pocket, but it was there, and he finally pulled it out.

The words really were the same. The whole thing sounded like a coded message, or a riddle. The center of attention. The n in attention was different from the other letters, the wall raised around it in a small circle, like a button. Alice raised his arm and pushed at it with his index finger, just as the door's hinges gave off and it burst open. He didn't know what he expected to happen. Definitely not for his finger to sink into the wall, for there to be a flash of light and to find himself standing on the street before Town Hall, reeling.

He didn't wait to see if anyone would give chase, Alice ran until his lungs are on fire and his legs were shaking. Then he collapsed against a wall, chest heaving.

♛ ♛ ♛

Another result of a fugue was that you could have a sunset at three o'clock, followed by a nice sunny day of indeterminable length. Which was why when Alice finally reached the square it was empty. The people had moved on, leaving popped balloons and crumpled popcorn bags in their wake. Even the pubs and cafes were closed, hatches padlocked and doors locked. Everyone was gone.

Everyone except the condemned.

Alice didn't want to look at the body, it was morbid and pointless, but he couldn't keep his back on it either, irrationally worried the corpse might sneak up on him from behind. It swung from the noose, eerily silently except for the odd creak of rope, which seemed deafening by contrast. Reluctantly, Alice's eyes kept being drawn towards it, which was why he saw it when the body moved.

At first he thought he had imagined it at first, the corpse's tail twitching. He got close enough to see the individual scales on the green lizard’s body, when the tail moved again. It formed a little curve and swung back and forth. It almost looked like it was beckoning Alice closer.

Alice considered bolting, but he wouldn't have been Alice if he wasn't curious. He could always run screaming later. He inched closer to the scaffold, until he was so close he could touch it if he were so inclined.

"Finally," said the corpse. "I was afraid I'd have to hang here forever."

Alice almost gave up the ghost then and there, which was fitting as he was apparently conversing with one. 

"Would you be a dear and give me a tug? You're the only one around here, and I can't do it by myself."

Alice swallowed around the massive lump in his throat. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times but no words came out. He did manage and auargh, but he couldn't imagine that counted.

"I don't think I can do that," he said at length, and miraculously his voice didn't even shake. "I don't believe we've been introduced."

"You don't have to stand on ceremony with me," answered the corpse airily. "I know you're Alice. And I’m the tail of Bill the Lizard. Now we know each other."

The _tail_? Alice shifted to the side and looked at the tail more closely. It was the only part of the hanged lizard that had been moving, actually. While he scrutinized it, a gash opened at the widest part of the tail, showing Alice a glimpse of sharp teeth and pink tongue beyond.

"How about it, Alice?"

Alice took a quick, almost guilty look around. No one else was present either to reassure Alice he wasn't going insane, or to witness his mental breakdown. The Hatter might have come handy, right about now.

"Uhh, how come are you talking to me?" Alice ventured to ask.

The tail gave a long-suffering sigh.

"You know how a lizard can grow a new tail if he loses the first one?"

"Yes?"

"My case is the opposite, I'm a tail that can grow a new lizard. Bill was my third one. Nice guy, but with a suicidal fondness for tarts."

Alice circled the scaffold slowly, observing the tail. Apart from the mouth, it looked like an ordinary, giant lizard tail.

"I won't be able to do my gatekeeping duties for now. The Bishop won't be pleased," muttered the tail. It was probably talking to himself, but Alice butted in.

"The Bishop?"

"He manages the King's servants for him. I thought you met him today, actually, he was here to make sure Bill didn't blurt out anything unfortunate."

"Was the man with the spaniel called the Bishop?" Alice asked, suddenly excited. He wondered if the Hatter knew his name. If he were here Alice would amuse himself by trying to read his reaction, inasmuch as he had one.

"Or the Crow, if you prefer," said the tail. "Say, will you get me down or not?"

Alice took am moment to reflect on the fact that not only he was holding a conversation with a body part, but that he had calmed to the point of trying to strike a deal with it.

"I will, if you answer some questions," he offered.

The tail seemed to think this over.

"What do you want to know?" it said, cautiously.

"For one, who has been killing Alices? Was it the Bishop?"

The tip of the tail swished from side to side, its version of a head shake.

"Nah, the Bishop didn't do it. Nobody did."

Alice hesitated. Perhaps the tail was scared to tell. Whoever could get the drop on the Hatter should be pretty scary.

"But they were killed. Somebody had to do it."

"I'm telling you, it was nobody," insisted the tail.

"Was it the Hatter?" There, the question was out. Alice had harbored certain suspicions, and it must have crossed the Queen's mind as well or he wouldn't have sent that fruit basket. It didn't matter if Alice didn't want it to be true, the Hatter wasn't beyond suspicion.

"No! It was nobody!"

Alice was just about to throw the gauntlet when a new thought took shape in his mind.

"Do you mean it was a person called Nobody?"

The tail tip bobbed up and down enthusiastically in agreement.

"Not so much a person. But he exists. He's supposed to serve the King same as the rest of us, but he does what he wants. Even the Bishop doesn't know why, but he keeps killing the Alices. The Hatter goes berserk every time, it's really sad."

Alice felt a wave of bone-deep relief that the Hatter wasn't the murderer. Not because Alice couldn't believe he'd killed any of his predecessors after making them believe he would protect them. No, it was because if the Hatter had been the killer, it meant that he'd lost all control over his own destiny. It meant something in the fugues was making him destroy the thing most important to him, unable to stop or even realize what he had done. That thought was unsettling. The Hatter had his faults - so many faults - but Alice didn't like to think of him as anyone's voiceless puppet.

Still, beside that there were so many implications to consider. A servant of the King of Hearts had been killing Alices. Another had helped Alice get away from servants of the Queen tasked to protect him.

"Does the King want Alice dead?" Alice asked, expecting evasiveness.

The tail snorted derisively instead.

"The King's been trying to meet an Alice as long as he's been here, but Nobody always gets them before that." Its voice got lower, turned sly. "I know where the king sleeps. I know how to deal with Nobody. I'll tell you, if you like."

"Why would you do that? I already said I'd get you down."

"It's the King's will, and I am his servant, after all. Besides," and now the tail seemed wistful. "I don't want to be a tail forever."

♛ ♛ ♛

Alice had a plan this time. It was a rare experience for him. Usually his plans never went beyond 'go kill the White rabbit', 'find the informer' or 'let the Hatter put you in drag and humiliate you needlessly in front of the whole court'. He operated on instinct most of the time, but there was something to be said about being prepared.

Like now, when he wasn't simply barging into the castle.

Instead, he was sidling up to a castle with a clever disguise, or perhaps an excuse. Actually, with a newspaper. He ran over from column to arc and from tree to rosebush in the castle gardens, trying to circle out back, and kept the newspaper strategically open so he could pretend to be reading it at a moment's notice.

Like now, for instance, when he was leaning against a bower and waiting for one of the junior cooks to finish picking rosehips so Alice could break into a near-by tool shed. The woman was taking forever, and Alice resisted the urge to cover his face with the newspaper and groan. He should have thought to poke holes in it at least, for observation, instead he was stuck at a two-page account of the supposed sordid affair between the White Rabbit and his maid, Marianne. The article boasted a genuine photograph of the two lovebirds in the middle of a heated assignation. Alice found the 'photograph' a teensy bit unrealistic.

  
[](http://tinypic.com?ref=wufl03)   


Finally the cook ambled away, and Alice chucked the newspaper in the bower and ran over to the tool shed, resisting the urge to check for onlookers at every step. He broke the padlock with a stone, and picked up the only red-painted ladder as he'd been instructed by Bill the lizard’s tail.

Walking as nonchalantly as a man with a giant ladder under his arm could, Alice made his way to the north wall of the castle, and propped the ladder under the second window from the left. It was open like he'd been assured it would be, so Alice swung his leg over the sill, feeling vaguely thrilled to be breaking in a castle, and climbed inside.

"There's only me in this castle, and the King, and some of his servants who are all visible," Alice murmured under his breath. The words were supposed to keep Nobody away, leaving no space for him to exist here. Alice felt silly saying them, but he'd much rather look foolish than be dead, and too murder attempts were enough for him for one day.

He gingerly ventured out of the music room he had climbed into. The king's and Queen's castles had little in common. The Queen's had been all bare stone walls radiating coldness, while the walls here seemed to be carved out of sandstone, rough and worn.

Alice wasn't very familiar with the Queen's castle, let alone with this one. Where could the King be? The royal bedroom would be the safest bet if he was constantly asleep. Though Alice had no idea where the King's apartments were, and wandering around opening doors to people's bedrooms seemed like a sure way to get found out right quick.

He headed down a massive gallery. There was no carpet on the floor, but the porous stone absorbed the noise from his footsteps. He met no one on his way, not a single trump or servant. It occurred to him that this was the King's castle, and perhaps he didn't have very many servants, or they hadn't all been exiled with him.

When the spaniel's head stuck around a corner Alice was almost glad. He'd been discovered, but at least he wouldn't wave to stumble around like headless chicken anymore. The little dog wagged its tail at him and ran down yet another corridor, and Alice followed it.

He didn't realize where they were headed until they flew down a final flight of stairs to the exact same dungeon where Jack had kept him last time. The walls looked even rougher here, like someone had been scrubbing them with sandpaper for centuries, but the layout of doorways and staircases was unmistakable. Evenly spaced candle stubs burned in holders carved in the walls.

There was someone chained in the middle of the floor, like Alice had been.

The man raised his head, and through his wild, curly hair the deep shadows under his black, glinting eyes were unmistakable.

Alice laughed, surprising even himself. The sound echoed off the cavernous walls before it cut off abruptly. Alice bounded down the stairs, taking two-three at a time.

"I should have known you'd turn up like a bad penny," he told the Hatter. The Hatter was standing upright like the stubborn mule that he was, even though the chains would have allowed him to sit. Alice crouched down to inspect the place where one of them was secured to the floor. As he thought it was simple enough, secured with a bolt instead of locked up. All he had to do to free the Hatter was unscrew the bolts.

Alice lifted his head, about to share the good news, when he realized the Hatter hadn't spoken or moved after seeing him.

"You aren't going to sulk because I left you alone, are you?" Alice called out, stepping over a chain and drawing closer to his bodyguard. A chained guard dog, now, and the thought brought a smile on his lips. "You had it coming for keeping secrets."

He might as well not have been there, for all the attention the Hatter paid to him. Alice poked him in the ribs with a finger.

"Hey, useless guy, are you sleeping here? Quit spacing out and do your job protecting Alice," he said, in a sing-song voice.

"Alice is dead," said the Hatter. When he looked up at Alice his eyes were still unfocused.

"Oh, come on, give me a break," Alice barked out. "I'm not dead. If anyone's dead here it's you, you look like a corpse."

The Hatter wouldn't look at him, but not like he didn't heard him, like Alice wasn't Alice, but an extra, a minor character, someone unimportant and uninteresting. Well, screw that. Even if he did return the name of Alice, he would never be dismissible.

Alice took the Hatter by the head and forced him to face Alice.

"Your Alice is here. Alive. You're going to disappoint Alice if you keep saying she's dead, all right?" 

There was a glimmer of recognition the Hatter's eyes now, but instead of getting with the problem he fought Alice harder. He shook his head like a horse unaccustomed to a new bridle, trying to escape Alice's grip.

"Don't do this," he warned, through clenched teeth.

Alice wrapped his arms around the Hatter's neck to hold on. It made him self-conscious, too close to a lover's embrace to be comfortable, and Alice was briefly glad there was nobody else here to witness this.

"Everything you've done was for Alice's sake, wasn't it? Don't abandon Alice now. Alice loves you, Alice will always love you," Alice said. The words were trite and silly, but just like that time on the balcony they seemed to work. The Hatter settled down in his arms. His hair spilled everywhere, and Alice allowed himself to smooth it back from the Hatter's neck and gather it to the nape of his neck.

"There, that's better," he had nothing to tie it up with, so he just held it in place.

The Hatter laughed hoarsely against his neck. It wasn't an amused laughter, but it sounded very near to his usual self.

"Every time I think you can't possibly become a bigger idiot, you prove me wrong," he said against Alice's shoulder, breath tickling Alice's collarbone. Alice let go of him, embarrassed.

"You're welcome." Alice cleared his throat. "Now, if you're quite finished insulting me, I should tell you I found out who's been killing the Alices."

"So did I," the Hatter said.

"Oh."

They stared at each other. The declaration had taken the wind off Alice's sails somewhat. He'd imagined wowing the Hatter with his investigative abilities, and to be cheated off that was more disappointing than he would have expected.

"Are you going to get these things off or not?" The Hatter asked at length. He looked entirely self-contained now.

"If you ask nicely," Alice said, crossing his arms pointedly.

"Get me out of here, please, idiot Alice," said the Hatter, but he was almost smiling as he did it, and it looked neither bitter nor deranged. Alice was so surprised he had already unscrewed three bolts and the Hatter was making short work of the last one before it occurred to him he could have lorded it over the Hatter for longer.

"Let's get out of here," The Hatter said, as soon as he was free, heading straight for the staircase without waiting for Alice's answer. He clasped Alice's forearm briefly when he passed him, a non-verbal order for Alice to follow.

"But," Alice said, unsettled by unexpected touch. This wasn't like the Hatter.

"What?" The Hatter stopped with his boot propped on the first step, looked at Alice expectantly. This too wasn't like him, he should be running up the stairs arrogantly certain that Alice was close behind. "The fugue is almost over. The Queen will check up on us as soon as everything's back to normal.

"I want to find the King of Hearts. He should be somewhere around here, and he's been trying to meet an Alice for a while, maybe you know that," Alice realized he was rambling,  
And forced himself to stop. "Anyway, I want to hear what he has to say. Otherwise this whole thing has been for nothing."

"This will all be for nothing either way," said the Hatter. Alice was about to say he was going to go by himself if the Hatter didn't want to tag along, but then the Hatter crouched by the wall and pried off two of the stubby candles and the words died in his throat. "Here, hold that."

They followed the biggest corridor at first, though the more they went it looked less and less like a corridor and more and more like a tunnel. They walked so long that if it weren't for the candles Alice would have wondered if they weren't on the wrong track. But the candles still burned along the walls, low, showing the way.

At last they reached a fork in the passage. Both were lit.

"You take the right one," said the Hatter, and before Alice could be surprised, the Hatter had disappeared down his chosen corridor.

Alice shrugged and walked on, until the plain sandstone walls of the dungeon gave way to polished black marble that made the reflection from Alice's candle dance and jump as he moved. Alice went deeper and here he found it, a black throne on a raised dais that looked very much like the Queen's. It was empty.

In the shadows, someone started applauding.

"Bravo! Bravo!" The Bishop stepped into the light, still clapping. It looked more encouraging than genuinely impressed, like an adult congratulating a child on their first crooked letters. "No Alice has ever gotten this close before!"

Alice sneered at him, not appreciating being condescended at.

"I'm here to talk to the King. Unnecessary people should get out of the way," Alice said, with a certainty he was almost positive he really felt.

"Of course, of course," said the Bishop. It was difficult to make him out in the flickering candlelight, but Alice thought he looked pleased. "You just have to wake him, and you can talk as much as you want."

He gestured at the back of the throne. Alice circled the dais, not taking his eyes off the Bishop, but then he saw the figure hunched behind the throne and that caught his full attention. The King wasn't a small man, but he was huddled tight into a ball, with his knees to his chest and his arms wrapped around them he looked like a naughty boy hiding from punishment. His mouth was open and there was a drying trail of saliva on the side of his chin.

Alice made no move to wake him. This all seemed somehow anticlimactic.

"Go on," said the bishop. "Wake him."

Alice climbed the first step, then stopped on the second. The Bishop was leaning forward eagerly.

"Isn't he supposed to stay asleep? I thought that was why he was here," asked Alice. Now that he was here, he was feeling dubious about this. What if this was the wrong move. The Queen had put the King here, and for all that the Queen had the morals of a shark, it was in his interest to help Alice.

"Nonsense," The Bishop waved his hand back and forth in front of his face, as if to dispel the very notion from the air as if it were an overripe fart. "We're in a fugue, and rules don't matter here. Just wake him."

Alice reached out uncertainly, but his hand dropped down before he'd touched the King.

"Why don't you wake him?"

The Bishop was quiet.

"You can't, can you?" Alice realized. "Only Alice can wake him. And Nobody doesn't want him to wake up, and that's why he keeps killing the Alices."

He was sure he was right, and the Bishop's silence only confirmed it. Alice felt elated. He pulled back from the throne and the sleeping king beside it.

"I won't wake him unless you tell me why he's asleep in the first place," he said, lifting his chin. He held all the aces now.

The Bishop let out a cackle.

"Why, if this isn't the real Alice after all," he said, but he no longer sounded amiable, nor looked unremarkable. Perhaps it was only the light, but his features had turned sharper, pointier, his nose almost looked like a beak. "Do you know, little Alice, why is a raven like a writing desk?"

His fingers dipped behind his jacket and he pulled out a stack of letter. They looked old, the paper yellowed and ratty at the corners.

"Because you can keep secrets in both," The Bishop said, and presented Alice with the letters with a mocking little bow.

Alice took them, curious, and tugged open the faded blue ribbon that tied them together. He turned the first one over, but the address was illegible with age. When Alice opened the flap it tore off and fluttered to the ground.

Alice read the letter. Then he tore into the next one, and the next one.

They were all letters to a girl named Alice. In the earliest the signature was simply was, playfully, Mr. Carroll, then Charles for quite a while, until in the last, bitter ones he was simply Mr. D-----. Not everything was clear, the picture one-sided and half-formed without the girl's perspective, but it was clear enough what had happened.

The man had taken to tutoring a young girl. He made up stories to amuse her. In them, she was the heroine, the center of the world. He told her he would love her forever and he believed it. But then the girl grew up, and it became evident to both of them the man did not like her quite so much like that. He became disillusioned with both of them. Why couldn't he have loved the grown Alice? Why couldn't she have held his interest forever?

So he made up another story, where the man was forever devoted to his Alice, and Alice, the real Alice, was a shining, singular creature he could never tire of, if only he could find her. But there were obstacles between them. Many, many counterfeit Alices that had to be punished and disposed of for daring to claim the title of Alice.

Alice folded the last letter slowly, taking the time to compose himself. His mind felt more jumbled yet clearer than he could remember it ever being. He'd almost forgot where he was. He saw now he'd read so long the candles were guttering. He was running out of time.

"Very interesting. However, I can't see what this has to do with the King's sleep," Alice said evenly.

"The King is asleep because someone has to dream this place up. Wonderland can't exist without a dreamer. When the last one died the Queen saddled the king with this burden. All we have to do to get away from this wretched place is wake him up! It's so simple!"

Alice stacked the letters together carefully on the armrest of the throne, not looking up.

"What if I don't want to leave Wonderland?" he asked quietly.

"How can you not?! Didn't you understand what these letters meant?" The Bishop was clearly angry now, spittle flying as he shouted. "There's no game to kill the White Rabbit. There's no way this place would ever be stable. It's all a charade to get revenge on Alice! If there was a real Alice here, she got killed long ago!"

A short, quiet sound came from the passage, like the edge of a booth scuffed against stone. The Bishop's head whirled around, but there was nothing to see but darkness.

"Who's there?" he called out anyway.

"Nobody's there," Alice answered, softly. The Bishop's eyes went so wide they looked about to pop out of his skull.

"You simpleton! Do you want to kill yourself?"

"Oh, Nobody won't kill me. He never seriously tried to do it," Alice insisted, walking over to a candle whose flame was still strong. He held out the stack of letters above it until the corners caught fire, then dropped the burning bundle in a pool of melted wax, watching it burn.

The Bishop looked at him like a man who'd just noticed he'd made a fatal mistake, but had not yet realized what it was.

"You see," Alice said. "I'm not like you or those other Alice's. I'm like Nobody. If this place stopped existing, so would we. You're right that the original Alice is long dead. I killed her. I suspect that's what I was created for."

The Bishop made a dash for the door, but some invisible force caught him and shook him like a rag door. There was a sickening crunch when he was slammed against the wall, then the Bishop's body crumpled to the floor and was still.

The letters had burned down to cinder. Alice brushed the ashes to the floor, then scattered them with his booth.

He had to step over the body to leave the King's throne room. He felt like he had at the gallows, sick and sorry but not guilty at all, sure that there was nothing he could have done to prevent that death.

It was much darker now, only one in several candles still burning, so Alice almost ran into the Hatter in the passage.

The Hatter caught Alice's shoulders to steady him without comment.

"All done now?" he asked.

Alice nodded, and the Hatter must have seen it because he only gripped Alice's hand and turned to retrace their steps. The walk back seemed even longer, and Alice wondered idly if the Hatter had heard everything, if he had been hidden in the shadows at the mouth of the marble chamber the whole time. Or maybe he had known even before that, maybe the Bishop had taunted him with the knowledge before he chained him.

But Alice wasn't going to ask, and he doubted the Hatter would volunteer such information.

Alice felt hollow and how he imagined feeling heartbroken would feel like. He would never restore the name Alice to its rightful owner. He would never make things up to his older sister. He didn't have an older sister even.

At the same time there was a sick, twisted coil of satisfaction growing inside him. He wasn't useless. He wasn't nothing. He had been created for a purpose and if that purpose had been to kill Alice and steal her name, so be it.

♛ ♛ ♛

By the time they climbed back above ground the Queen's castle had started to peek through the King's like stuffing from beneath frayed damask. There was a wall of cut stone here or there, a furnished alcove where the King's castle had been bare.

Alice expected they would head straight home, and as quickly as possible. He also expected the Hatter to let go of his hand as soon as there were out into the light. But the Hatter held on and guided Alice not to the entrance, but to the great hall.

A massive table bisected it in two, already laid for sumptuous tea.

The Hatter gripped the edge of the tablecloth one handed and gave a massive tug, upending half the tableware on the floor. Fine china crunched beneath their booths as the Hatter walked Alice backwards until he was sitting on the edge of the table.

The look in his eyes was a silent statement of intent. And why not, thought Alice? This was something he'd earned, something he'd had to kill for, and it only made sense that he take full possession of his conquest.

The Hatter leaned down slowly, plenty of warning, plenty of time for Alice to pull away. The kiss was deep and thorough from the very beginning, nothing to hide between them now. Alice feels The Hatter's hands on his shoulders, tangling in his hair, gripping the back of his neck. His own fingers hold on to that ridiculous cravat, twisting in it until it comes undone.

Alice couldn't remember doing this before, yet it wasn't awkward. He used to assume he had, in his previous life that he didn't remember except in flashes of nightmares. But now that he knew any life he had took place in Wonderland he couldn't assume anything anymore. Maybe this was his first time ever touching anyone, fumbling over undoing buttons, letting his fingers coast over the exposed heat of skin underneath. Or maybe he and the Hatter had done this countless times before and just didn't remember.

Alice decided he liked kissing The Hatter. Liked the way The Hatter's hard body felt against his own. The Hatter looked wild now, almost as much as he had in the dungeon, or before that when he was drinking Alice with his eyes like he couldn't believe he was alive. 

They tore off the layers of each other's clothes like peeling fruit, exposing the soft, vulnerable pulp underneath. The Hatter was a collection of paradoxes. His long-fingered, elegant, poet's hands were covered in calluses. His fine curls tickled over Alice's collarbone like the gentlest caress followed by the rasp of his beard as he laid down biting kisses on Alice's neck.

It was very distracting, and before he knew it Alice was on his back and the Hatter was putting some of the Queen's butter to very unorthodox uses. It burned when he pushes into Alice, sinking deep to the root with no consideration. Alice tried to make his displeasure known by worming the tip of one finger into the Hatter, dry, but the Hatter didn't even seem to notice it, so instead Alice dug his fingers viciously into the Hatter's back against the jumping muscles there. The Hatter didn't seem to want to pull out of him at all, only trying to nudge deeper inside, sliding Alice along the table with every thrust until Alice braced his feet against the creased tablecloth and pushed right back, trying to stay in place. He suddenly wanted to see the Hatter overtaken by his own pleasure, wanted it so badly he was sure the sight would be seared into his memory, unforgettable.

It's only after they're done and the Hatter's head was buried in Alice's shoulder that he realized The Hatter had been repeating Alice's name like a mantra, a desperate incantation this whole time.

♛ ♛ ♛

By the time they were done and presentable enough the castle was almost back to normal. It was a miracle no one had caught them in a compromising situation, actually. Alice's ladder, however, was still in place, and they managed to descend it and leave by the garden with no one the wiser.

Back home the Hatter went directly into his room and locked the door and locked the door, so Alice shrugged and got to his own bed. Alice didn't mind. He wasn't sure if he were the Hatter's Alice, but they both knew he was the closest thing the Hatter was ever going to get.

He kicked off his shoes and took off his now ruined new suit. He'd lost his tie somewhere, hopefully not under the Queen's dining table among the broken china, overturned chairs and suspicious spots. In the mirror, his face was expressionless with exhaustion. None of it mattered.

Alice stretched out on the bed and slept.

He didn't even stir when the next tremor hit.

♛ ♛ ♛

The day promised to be great from the very beginning.

Alice's suit inexplicably looked like he'd crawled through a hedgerow in it, but that was all right, he needed a new one anyway.

He could have sworn it was the third Friday of the month, which meant no hot water, but it turned out it was Saturday and Alice had somehow missed the obligatory plumbing serenade day.

The tea cozy had turned into a badger overnight, and pissed all over The Hatter's shoes, but not Alice's, which probably meant badgers were much more intelligent and discerning animals than he'd thought previously.

The people on the street were trying not to stare even more pointedly than usual.

They whispered about something called a fugue day, a day without rules, and how no Alice before has ever survived one. They whispered about lost days, and how no one ever remembered what happened in a fugue.

Alice didn't mind. It wouldn't have been anything pleasant, and it wasn't like that much could happen in a single day.

If only he didn't feel like there was something he should remember.

Something important.


End file.
